


Heal

by ScribeFigaro



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Comfort Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4270779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeFigaro/pseuds/ScribeFigaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She will not let him throw his life away for her.  Comfort fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heal

___If everything could ever feel this real forever_  
_If anything could ever be this good again_  
_The only thing I'll ever ask of you_  
_You gotta promise not to stop when I say, ‘When.’  
_ _-Foo Fighters_

The weak light of a tallow candle illuminated his face, and she saw him grimace, sucking in breath through his teeth, as the pain hit him. And when he opened his eyes he saw her, and his expression changed so thoroughly he may have been a Noh actor changing masks. Suddenly serene, peaceful. Deceptive. 

“Sango,” he said.

“Houshi-sama.”

“I apologize,” he said. “Such a lovely woman has paid me her audience, and here I am sleeping the day away.”

“How bad is it?”

“Sango?”

“The poison. Explain to me why Kagome advised me, very strongly, not to leave your side tonight. Why she and the others are sleeping elsewhere, so I can cry without embarrassment.” She paused, feeling the onset of tears, but she somehow held them back. “Explain to me why I’ve been preparing myself, for the past four hours, to watch you die.”

“It’s not as bad as that…”

“Show me.”

“Sango?”

He was too feeble to resist, indeed, if she had stripped him to the waist earlier, when he was unconscious, she would have had no more trouble than now. She deftly untied his robes, pulling aside the purple  _ kesa _ , spreading open the black wide-sleeved  _ koromo _ , and even the white  _ hadagi  _ beneath it, baring his chest and his arms. Too upset with him to blush at his half-nakedness. Too worried to appreciate how, in any other circumstance, it would have thrilled her to be the one to decide how much or how little clothing he wore, and remove those bits of clothing she did not want him to have. And, of course, too angry to process that, in this circumstance, she really had no right to undress him like this.

It took a moment for her to register what she was seeing. The fingers of right hand red with infection. His entire right arm criss-crossed with jagged red lines. Red zig-zags crossing his shoulder, into his chest. Poison in the blood, perilously close to his heart.

She clapped her hands over her mouth, holding back a sob that made her throat hurt.

_ No. _

_ No! _

Fighting back the tears, she reached toward his injury, then pulled back, afraid to exacerbate his condition.

“Sango,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“ _ Liar _ ,” she spat, making no effort to hide the rage welling up within her. Only in times like these could she hate him, truly hate him. 

“I-I meant to say say-” he backpedaled. “That is, it doesn't hurt as much. Thanks to Kikyou’s efforts, the poison has been receding for a while now.”

“ Houshi-sama! Are you telling me it was  _ worse than this _ ?”

He opened his mouth to counter, and realizing she was implacable, inconsolable, thought better of speaking.

She dissolved into soft sobs, but the anger held.

“ How dare you,” she said. “How dare you make a decision like that. Nothing is worth your life. Not even me.” She shook her head. “No,  _ especially _ not me. What good is it, Houshi-sama, to spare my life at the cost of your own? Do you not realize what kind of hell that would be for me?”

He sighed softly, in contemplative resignation.

“I’m afraid … for all I love you, for as much as I hate to disappoint you - on this issue I will go against your wishes, Sango. To not protect your life at the cost of my own … if that is the task you set before me … I’m afraid I shall fail it every time.”

“Damn you,” she hissed.

She lowered herself to the ground, pressing her cheek against the uninjured side of his naked chest. He brought his left hand around her, splaying fingers at her lower back.

“I made a promise to you,” she said, “I promised I would live with you, be your wife, and bear your children. Why must you make it so difficult to follow through on that promise? How can I plan for a life with someone who values that life so little?”

“Sango…”

“I mean it,” she said. “Don’t you understand you’re my future, Houshi-sama? If you die, that future is dead, and half of me dies as well. A half of me that I love very much. I can’t go back to that life before you. Not after knowing what I’d be giving up. So please, Houshi-sama. If nothing else, understand that if you exchange your life for mine, you are not doing me a kindness. You do me an intolerable cruelty, Houshi-sama. Just looking at you - looking at you in this state - you have no idea how deep you cut into my heart.”

He stroked her back.

“If that’s so - if your heart hurts so badly, all I can say, Sango, is how terribly I wish I could bear that pain for you as well.”

He wasn’t listening to her. None of this was getting through to him. This foolish, selfish, frustrating man. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to hit him so badly she reached forward and cupped his head in her hands and pressed her lips to his. She was so angry at him she lay her body down upon his, crushing her breasts to his chest. She was so absolutely infuriated that she thrust her tongue into his mouth, and bid him to do the same. She was so thoroughly at a loss with him that she continued kissing him for a good two minutes.

Gasping, she drew back. Fearful suddenly for him - if she could barely catch her breath, Mirkou might already have suffocated. But he merely stared at her, in shock, a slow grin creeping across his face.

She blushed.

“That wasn’t for saving my life,” she said. “Don’t even get started on that. That - that was the opposite of what you get for saving my life.” She shook her head. “Oh, you foolish monk, if only you could imagine what you’re missing, if only you had done the math and let me take a few solid hits you know damn well I could have shaken off, such a reward could have been in store. But no, Houshi-sama, instead of letting me take a couple more bruises, you went ahead and used the Kazaana and took god knows how much time off your life.”

He smiled.

“I assure you, I am imagining such things with every fiber of my being.”

“One fiber more than the others, I’m sure,” she murmured.

“What was that, Sango?”

“Nevermind.”

“Truly, though, tell me about this paradise that is now lost to me.”

“No,” she said.

She paused.

“Maybe. But on one condition.”

“And what is that, Sango?”

“You have to tell me something honest,” she said.

He chuckled.

“Honest. All right. To be completely truthful, Sango, my arm is half-numb, and the half that is not numb is afire. I have the sensation not unlike a wood-carver making some intricate sculpture out of the flesh of my right shoulder, and doing so with tools that need sharpening.”

So shocked was she at such an admission that she could not react to him sliding his hand further down her back, and gripping her bottom firmly with his left hand.

“This of course is bearable, Sango, but only because you are such a deliciously welcome distraction.”

“Houshi-sama,” she whispered.

She reached for his hand, holding it between hers, curling his hand into a fist and kissing each knuckle. His groping of her had become so usual at this point it stood a state of mild tolerance. And she would have held his hand like this, for some time, but for the fact he was honest with her, honest in a way she didn’t think him capable of before. To actually tell her he was in such pain - to make no attempt to hide his discomfort, to actually trust her and not spare her feelings - this was something new. Something special. Something worth rewarding.

This of course had nothing to do with the fact she knew now he was - as bad as he looked - not going to die on her, not tonight. None of this had anything to do with the fact that going through this particular sequence of emotions - fear of losing him, anger at his recklessness once the fear had passed, grudging acceptance of his stupidity once the anger passed, and the realization she really couldn’t love him even half as much if he were any different - none of her actions were at all affected by this sequence of emotions which now left her with a strange and soothing warmth in her chest, which was slowly migrating to her belly and points south.

“Houshi-sama,” she said. Placing his hand on her chest, splaying his hands over her left breast, cupping her hands over his hand.

“S-sango,” he gasped. 

If she gave him a shock, it was not a sufficient shock to prevent him from firmly squeezing her breast through her kosode, kneading the flesh with thumb and fingers.

“Is this sufficiently distracting, Houshi-sama?”

“Perhaps,” he said. 

“Perhaps?” she repeated.

It took a moment for him to get his bearings.

“Indeed, Sango, my distress has dropped precipitously. Although I must admit I am still in some great discomfort. Perhaps…”

“Perhaps,” she repeated, finding the word a bit silly now.

“ Perhaps it may help … with regards to my recovery, that is - I am quite dedicated toward my healthy recovery, and I make his suggestion solely -  _ solely  _ \- with that in mind.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“But I think, on lengthy and careful reflection, Sango -”

“It’s been ten seconds,” she said.

“On measured and efficient reflection.”

She nodded.

“I think it would be most beneficial to my health if you would allow me the singular pleasure of spending some time touching your bare breasts with my hand.”

She recoiled in mock horror, and slapped his hand away.

“ _ Houshi _ -sama! I am a  _ lady _ !”

“Ah-” he said, not quite sure how mock the horror really was.

She sighed heavily and reached behind her back to unfasten her  _ mobakama _ and the  _ obi  _ beneath it, loosening her  _ kosode _ .

“Your rudeness notwithstanding, Houshi-sama, your argument is sound. Although I think the term ‘singular pleasure’ is a bit misleading, as I do in fact have two of them, and I expect you to be equitable in your attentions.”

She barely held back a blush as she regarded his face. God, his right arm was a mess, but there was not a trace of pain on his face, only a sort of stupefied joy. He really didn’t believe this was happening.

_ I’m not sure I believe it either. Am I being foolish, just drunk on him being alive? Will I regret this indiscretion tomorrow? _

_ No. I’m doing this because of all those other times he came back from the brink of death, and I came so close to letting him know me this way, and held back.  _ Those  _ are the times I regret. And I am in that place again. No matter what I say or how I act, no matter how I joke or roll my eyes at his silliness, the joy of Miroku living another day for me fills me utterly. I must take full control of my sensibilities to choose the right path. And to reason this out, my mind has distilled this most critical decision on two irrefutable items of fact. First, while it would be best to wait for the perfect moment - preferably after Naraku is defeated and he and have nothing preventing us from settling down, or (more in the short term) sometime in the next week when Miroku is no longer bedridden with injury - I do not know for absolute fact that he and I will live long enough for such an acceptable moment to occur. Second, despite his injuries, Miroku is alive, and I am alive, and I want him to  _ do things  _ to me. _

The  _ hadagi  _ unfastened, and now all the layers of her robes were loose enough to fall from her shoulders. She slipped her arms from the sleeves and pushed the material down to her waist. Resting on her knees, she regarded him, and gauged his reaction as he viewed her naked breasts for the first time in his life. 

Well, counting his peeping on her baths, the first time at such close range.

“Sango,” he said. “Sango, you are so extraordinarily beautiful.”

The hut was cool, not uncomfortably so, but noticeable, and as he gingerly reached for her the warmth of his hand was most pleasurable on her skin. She closed her eyes, content to relax under his attentions. She tried not to think about his experience with women before her, although such prior experience could not be all that bad if that was what taught him how to touch her this way. Only when he had thoroughly explored the contours of one breast did he focus on one nipple, already aroused by his attentions, and now most thoroughly sensitive to his firm touch.

“Ah, god,” she gasped.

Her breathing quickened, and the warmth that had begun in her chest now held residence in a spot just below her belly, turning and tensing in strange and wonderful ways. One breast and then the other he went, working her up, and here she knelt, driven so senseless she realized she wasn’t even touching him, just gripping her own knees and waiting patiently.

All this with one hand! His non-dominant hand! How was he doing this? Why didn’t it feel nearly as good when she did this herself?

He released her breasts, taking her hand, bidding her to lean over him, and she kissed him. Propping herself up with her hands and knees, hovering over him as their tongues explored each others’ mouths. His hand drawing long, slow strokes over her back, her sides, her belly, her chest. And then he gripped her shoulder and urged her to move up his body a bit more, and before she realized it she was poised with one of her breasts hanging over his mouth, and his tongue was laving her nipple.

She groaned. First one breast and then the other, sucking and licking, working her up in ways unimaginable. Supporting herself with one hand, she buried the other in his hair, pressing him firmly to her chest. She had no idea this could be so enjoyable. The heat and wetness of his mouth, the firmness of his tongue, the suction of his mouth. The heat in her belly turned and twisted and became impossibly taut.

_ I - I think I’m going to have an orgasm. I think I’m going to come, just from this. Just from him sucking on my breasts. _

She felt his free hand grab and pull at the robes loosely wound around her waist. At first, she thought this simply to gain leverage as he worked her breasts, but she quickly realized her garments were, one by one, becoming divested of the knotwork supporting them and slipping down her thighs. Her heart thrummed as she felt the weight of her  _ mobakama  _ pool at her knees, the  _ kosode _ and  _ hadagi _ following. Naked but for her  _ susoyoke _ , the thin white cloth underskirt wrapped several times around her waist and hanging to her knees, she held her breath as Miroku’s hand slipped beneath the hem, touching her inner thigh at the knee, slipping upwards.

She gasped as the palm of his hand pressed against her vulva. How had she become so wet? Frustration now. She was supposed to be in charge here. She was supposed to pleasure him, give herself to him, but even with his right arm completely immobilized from his injuries he somehow he kept total control. 

Oh god. His fingers. Parting her labia. Every move he made sending shockwaves from pelvis to knees, from hips to shoulders. She could barely process it.

He didn’t touch her the way she touched herself. He avoided the clitoris, and somehow she knew this wasn’t on accident, as she somehow kept coming so near to it, but never quite touching it. No, he did things she didn’t know could work, things she never thought to try. Lightly pinching her outer labia between thumb and forefinger and running the length of her vulva - yes, indeed that worked, for some reason, when  _ he _ did it. Sliding a finger up and down, not exactly in the center, always off to one side - yes, that worked too. Teasing her entrance. Yes, that as well. And now. And now ...

He entered her. Actually entered her, with his finger. And more than that, his thumb now found, at this critical moment, her clitoris, and pressed it firmly, rubbing in deliberate circles.

She was defeated, utterly defeated. Her fingernails dug into the floorboards. Her body shook. His hand inside her, on her clit, and his mouth on one breast and then the other. Impossible. Unfair.

She came, shuddering, crying. She hadn’t meant it to be this way. He was supposed to be inside her the first time he saw her climax. He had distracted her, foiled her efforts. She would fix this, for certain. In a minute or two. For now, just bliss. Total bliss.

She fell against his uninjured side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her leg over his waist, holding him close. Pressing her mouth to his neck, kissing him, breathing his scent. His fingers slipped from her body, and he rested his hand on her knee.

“Houshi-sama,” she murmured. 

Some minutes passed. His breathing became slow and steady.

“H-houshi-sama,” she whispered. “That … that was unfair.”

Licking her lips.

“You - you distracted me, Houshi-sama. I was supposed to …”

She pulled away, resting on her knees. He remained on his back, eyes shut. She let herself believe the angry red marks on his arm and shoulder had receded, and lightened in color.

“Houshi-sama,” she prodded him.

“Ah,” he said. “Please don’t wake me. I’m having the most wondrous dream right now.”

He looked at her with half-lidded eyes, face lined with exhaustion. A reminder to her that he was ill, terribly ill, and all this was idiocy.

“Houshi-sama,” she said. 

“Thank you, Sango, for such a wonderful experience. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed that.”

“It - it isn’t over, Houshi-sama. You … you have to come too.”

He chuckled.

“As enjoyable as that would be, I’m afraid my energies are quite spent. Shall we continue this after my recovery?”

“I understand, Houshi-sama. It’s all right.”

She kissed him again, tasted the wondrous taste of his mouth. She could feel his fatigue, his tongue not nearly as lively now as he was before. She could tell he was fighting sleep.

She sat up, and began to loosen the layers of clothing bundled about his waist.

“Sango,” he whispered. “You don’t have to-”

“It’s all right,” she said again. “Just lie back and relax. I’ll take care of everything.”

She exposed his stomach and thighs and the triangle of soft linen between them. Pressing her hands against him, feeling the warmth and shape of him through the loincloth. He groaned as she began to trace fingers up and down the outline of his half-erect penis.

“Houshi-sama,” she said. “I know it can be difficult, if you’re injured, but do you think you can get hard for me?”

“You - you really have no idea how aroused I was just five minutes ago, do you, Sango?”

She smiled.

“And when was that, Houshi-sama? What part of that made you most aroused?”

He averted his eyes, blushing, and she got to see him actually become shy for a moment, before he looked at her again.

“If I had to choose only a single aspect, Sango, it would be the sensation of your body tightening around my finger as you climaxed.”

A pleasurable warmth washed over her. She briefly considered inviting him to touch her again, but realized this would simply cause a repeat of before. No, she must focus.

Unfastening his  _ fundoushi _ , pulling the garment aside. Her face burning red, she knew. She understood sex well enough, and and had a general idea of what to expect in terms of his anatomy. And it wasn’t like she’d never seen one before - she’d bathed with boys her age when she was little kid, and as a teenager there were more than a few times she’d run into someone indiscreetly urinating on the roadside. So she understood this part of a male to be either silly looking or kind of gross.

Her opinion was rapidly changing, however.

She took him in her hands, warm and solid. His breathing quickened, and his soft gasps and moans directed her course. She gripped him tightly and began to move up and down his length. She became incredibly pleased with herself as his penis became larger and more firm to her touch.

“Houshi-sama,” she whispered. Turning to him, meeting his half-lidded eyes. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Sango,” he said. “No, quite the opposite. That feels extremely good.”

Smiling, she continued to work him with her hands. She explored, guided by the sounds he made. She splayed her fingers over his scrotum and gently manipulated him; she was taken aback that she could actually feel each testicle individually through the thin flesh, and it seemed to please him when she gently felt out their contours. The tip of his penis began to protrude from his foreskin and she realized how terribly sensitive this was, for simply brushing her thumb against this part of him made him gasp in a way that she thought bordered on pain.

And so, of course, she kissed him, kissed him in that same spot, and the sound he made indicated quite strongly this particular strategy was supremely effective. Cautiously extending her tongue, licking the end of his cock, and grinning when he shook beneath her.

“S-sango … you … you don’t have to …”

It was a strange but not unpleasant taste, so she continued licking him, making him grunt and groan. The results of her efforts pleased her; his penis took on the shape of the fertility idols she had seen before. Rigid in her hands now, and very warm. Bit by bit the head of his cock revealed itself to her, and she took him in her mouth, encircling this most sensitive part of him with her tongue. He writhed beneath her, murmuring her name softly.

After a minute or two she was quite thoroughly convinced his body was as ready for her as it could possibly be. She pulled back, admiring her handiwork. How oddly pleasing it was, to look at him like this. Not only naked, but fully aroused. Miroku’s penis, in all its erect glory. She could not resist touching him, running gentle fingers from base to tip, feeling his hardness, his thickness, his length. And now, fully understanding how sensitive this part of him was, how thrilling it was to see his cockhead completely exposed, flushed red, warm, and wet with her saliva.

Her hands flew to the knot of her underskirt, unfastening and disposing of the garment. Now, fully naked, she swung her left leg over and straddled him.

His good hand shot to her, gripping her thigh. Eyes wide in concern. In fear.

“Don’t!” he shouted.

She froze. Had she figured him out all wrong? The pleasure she was awash in suddenly became a heavy stone in her stomach. She had always believed he wanted her, in this way, just as much as she wanted him. Had she been wrong from the beginning?

“Houshi-sama,” she said. “It’s all right, I promise.”

“Please,” he said. “I can’t do this, Sango. Not in good conscience. It isn’t fair to you to bear this burden.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “We promised each other. I would be with you, and bear your children. Is that no longer acceptable?”

“Sango, no, god no. I still - I want that. You have no idea how much I want that. But now … in this way …”

He shook his head.

“If we should do this, and I somehow don’t survive these last few battles with Naraku … you would be alone with a child. My child.”

His thumb stroking her thigh.

“I can’t do that to you, Sango. I can’t leave you alone, with that kind of responsibility.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

In a dextrous series of movements, she lifted her hips, taking his erection in one hand, extracting a brief grunt from him as she brushed the tip of her cock with her thumb, reveling in how absolutely exposed and vulnerable he was. With the other hand she granted him the same courtesy, her fingers splayed on her vulva, arching her back so he could see her. His gaze fixed on that part of her, his face in shock, and what pleased her most of all was how his cock throbbed in her hand when she spread her fingers, drawing her labia apart, revealing to Miroku that part of her no one else had ever seen. An indescribable pleasure it was, to brush her clit with his cock, and guide him down the length of her wetness, down to her entrance. Lowering her weight upon him, groaning at the lovely pressure of that part of him against that part of her. The heat of his cock driving into her, making her body accommodate his thickness, his length. All the while, Miroku, gasping, watching his body disappear into hers.

She didn’t think he would slip inside her so easily, but he was  _ so  _ hard, and she was  _ so  _ wet ...

“Sango,” he gasped.

She adjusted herself, distributing the weight of her body across her knees and Miroku’s pelvis and thighs. Placing her hands on either side of his head. Staring him down.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t take me seriously otherwise.”

“Are … are you sure..?”

“Yes. Just tell me. Tell me you want this just as much as I do.”

“Sango. I do, most certainly. But I don’t think … in this state I don’t think I’m going to be a lot of help.” He averted his eyes for a moment. “You’re making it difficult to pace myself, Sango. I’m not sure you’re going to get much out of this before I … before I am finished.”

“Houshi-sama,” she whispered. “I assure you I’m quite satisfied. I don’t need endurance from you tonight. Just the opposite.”

She began to move, slowly, and he groaned beneath her. Slow strokes. God he felt good. It was so obvious now, he was the one. How else could he fit inside her so perfectly? 

Hands on either side of his head now, bracing herself. Faster, rolling her hips. His breathing quickening. His good hand gripped her ass, fingers digging into the flesh.

She leaned down, her breasts brushing against his chest. Her mouth seeking out his. Brief kisses as she continued to ride him. 

“S-sango,” he gasped. “I … I can’t …much longer…”

She kissed his cheek, his neck.

“Houshi-sama,” she said. “Go ahead. You can come as soon as you want to.” 

His breathing matching her strokes. His body tensing beneath her. His orgasm building before her eyes.

“Yes,” she said. “Houshi-sama.”

Bringing her lips to his ear. In a soft whisper, her coup de grace.

“ _ Make me pregnant. _ ”

The effect was immediate. He shuddered, gasped. And heat. Inside. His hips shook and thrust weakly against her. She growled in satisfaction, and continued rolling her hips, pumping his cock, making him empty his seed inside her. Making him give himself to her, every drop. 

She stayed atop him for some time, keeping them joined as long as possible, and when he softened and began to slip out she rolled over beside him. Wetness trickled from her, and she pressed her fingers to that place, finding herself warm and sticky with him. Cupping her hand between her legs, so that he did not spill further from her, she resolved to keep his seed inside her body for as long as she could.

“Sango,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, that … the next time it will be better…”

She kissed him.

“I know. And the time after that better still. I assure you, Houshi-sama, nothing ends here. We’ve begun something I have no intention of stopping.”

She glanced around the hut. Washcloths and a water pail were not far, but cleaning all this up would require some planning.

Yes, planning. Like timing out things. Will she have morning sickness on the final battle? Will she be showing on the day they are married? How short a pregnancy will her friends believe?

_ It’s not like anything’s for certain. _

Smiling. Laughing to herself. He was already asleep. And that was fine. The task that need be done was done.

If nothing else, their future was secure.

END 


End file.
